Date: Mon, 8 Mar 2010 16:58:22 -0800 (PST)
From: danimpa@yahoo.com
Subject: What Happened to the Green Fairies? - Chapter 26
DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions
of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is
based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the
celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is
illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't.
********************************
Gasps may occur when you read this chapter. Hehahehahe. ;)
********************************
What Happened to the Green Fairies?
By Danimpa
Chapter 26
Earldom of Salisbury, England
April/May 1398
Frederick kept pushing and suggesting for about a week, but then, to my
great relief, he seemed to finally give up on it.
I stayed worried and protective for a while and made sure to always have my
eye on either Brendon or Frederick. And if I couldn't manage that, then I
made sure Brendon was around Matt.
As time passed I relaxed more and more and I actually wound up spending a
lot of time with Earl John Montague, who shared my literary interests and
scholar's mind.
One day in particular, in early May, I was fresh out of a bath after
archery practice with Matt and the Montague sons, minus Thomas, the eldest
of them, who was in France with the army.
I found myself wandering, habitually almost, to Earl John's study to find
him huddled over a pile of parchment, quill in hand and black splotches of
ink scattered over his hands.
"What are you writing?" I asked, raising an eyebrow lightly as I sat down
in a chair on the opposite side of the table, facing him.
"I'm working on my ballads, George," he answered, looking up and sending me
a short, jovial smile.
I was very fond of the elder man, simply because he knew what I was and
accepted me despite of it, gave me glimpses into his works and discussed
things with me as an equal. I must admit that I envied Frederick for having
a parent thus accepting in spite of his situation.
I simply nodded, leaning back in the chair to get comfortable.
He pushed a piece of parchment across the table to me, still smiling. "Tell
me how you like this."
/ Lythe and listin, gentilmen, That be of frebore blode; I shall you tel of
a gode yeman, His name was Robyn Hode /
I looked back up from the parchment before pushing it back, nodding
again. "It was good," I commented with a small smile. "But what is this,
your ninth alternative beginning?"
"The beginning is everything. It is what has to carry the whole ballad,
young one," he explained with a raised eyebrow. "Don't you write yourself?"
I shrugged slightly.
He seemed shocked. "You should. You're immensely intelligent, George. Not
many people your age read, speak and write eight languages perfectly. You
have a way with languages and words, you should be writing."
I shrugged again. "I do write, but I'm afraid it could never live up to
yours."
"Nonsense, boy," he argued with a chuckle. "Don't you ever feel that it's
what you should do, what you should dedicate your life to?"
I did. But I had no idea how he knew. And I wouldn't be able to do it
freely until the day Father died and that could be many years away. I
settled on shrugging again.
"What do you write then?" he asked interestedly. "Ballads, epics, poetry?"
"Poetry," I answered. "But, I don't know. I don't feel that parchment is
the mouthpiece I should be using. I don't feel at all comfortable with it
like that."
He nodded. "It will come with time."
"I can only hope," I answered with a small sigh. I didn't understand why it
was that parchment felt inadequate. Or why I never felt like I belonged
anywhere but when I was with Brendon. Sometimes I felt ripped out of a
context and placed into another that didn't suit me the way it should.
"Chin up, son," John ordered, smiling again. "You are very young. Things
will settle themselves in due time."
But time, I always felt like I didn't have enough of that. It was running
out for me. Only a few more months before Jacqueline would arrive. And I
had no idea what life would be like after that.
******************************** After another bit of discussing writing
and Robin Hood and whatnot, I left him to his work and returned to my
chambers.
Brendon's absence puzzled me, but I figured he had to be off with Matt
somewhere and got myself settled with a worn copy of The Odyssey. A real
one too, not one of the lousy translations, but the real thing in ancient
Greek. I liked it better that way.
There was a sudden knock to the door, which confused me slightly because I
was convinced it would be Brendon and he never knocked.
I bade the person to come in, though, and looked up from the heavy volume
to be met with the presence of my brother. Alone.
"Are you attending supper or do you want it brought up here?" he asked with
a raised eyebrow and a small smile.
I was worried. There was absolutely no sign of Brendon. "Here," I quickly
answered, not wanting to leave until I'd seen him. "Have you seen Brendon?"
His brows furrowed. "He went back up here quite a while ago. He should've
been here long ago."
That definitely worried me and I easily felt the frown latch itself onto my
face.
"Don't worry, little brother," Matt replied. "I'm sure he just got
side-tracked or caught up in conversation with someone."
Who? Both Matt and I knew that we were practically the only people Brendon
spoke to. Especially after the Frederick incident. He'd been incredibly
jumpy, uncharacteristically shy and quite withdrawn in the last few weeks.
"If I see him, I'll tell him that you're looking for him," my brother
promised, ruffling my hair slightly before he left.
I looked back down on the thick volume, but the letters were blurred
together by then and I couldn't make any sense out of it. My stomach
clenched in heavy, unsettling dread.
After a while I realized I was starting to sweat and I was on the verge of
biting my nails.
Some random servant entered with my supper and left again without a word
and I sat, silently, staring at the food that called absolutely no appetite
out in me.
I hadn't eaten without Brendon since he'd come back.
I wasn't sure if I could, especially with that dreaded feeling of heavy
lead weighing my insides down.
Suddenly, finally, the door slammed open and Brendon entered. But it wasn't
exactly how I'd hoped to see him.
His face was bruised and swollen, his walking strange.
I knew that sort of walking too well, and the thought of what it meant made
me sick to my stomach.
His eyes, though, those were the worst part.
The look he'd constantly held in them around me for the last many months
had died, was replaced with burning loathing so overwhelming that my breath
caught in my throat.
Nevertheless I got up and walked to his side. "What did he do to you?" I
asked, already knowing the answer. Then I reached out my arms and was
about to embrace him, but I was cut off by his swift fist landing in my
stomach.
I stumbled back but managed to keep my balance before looking up at him
questioningly.
"I'm a person, noble boy," he growled. "Not your bloody property!" With
that his hand shot out again, this time slapping me hard across the face.
My hand raised involuntarily to cradle the pulsing, stinging skin while I
looked at him in disbelief, completely paralyzed for a moment.
Brendon wasn't doing this, was he?
But he was, and this was proven when another punch connected with my chest,
pumping all the air out of my lungs.
"I belong to me, you have no bloody right to let your stupid little friends
touch me!" He followed the statement up with another punch, finally making
me loose my balance as I fell to the floor.
My mind was a mess of new information as well as that strong disbelief.
A few hours earlier he'd been embracing me and telling me he loved me, and
now...
I also didn't understand how he could still be that strong after he'd so
obviously been raped and beaten.
A kick fell against my recently healed ribs and I let out a small whimper
at the pain, still doing nothing at all to defend myself.
I couldn't believe it was happening, couldn't comprehend it well enough to
do anything about it.
He gave a few more kicks before getting down next to me, ripping off my
breeches without even bothering with the strings.
The fabric tore at my skin, leaving small, stinging scratches behind, and
in one smooth motion, his own breeches were off as well and I was flipped
over onto my stomach.
I did not feel like being with him right at that moment, didn't feel safe
enough around him anymore and didn't feel strong enough to do it despite
the enmity as I had in the beginning.
"Your title and rank does not make you anymore human than me," he growled
on. "It does not make you worth more than me and I abhor you for using
it. I abhor you for so many bloody things." I could feel him positioning
himself above me before he plunged into me, more harshly and violently than
ever before. "And before I leave for good, you deserve to go through what
you allowed your friend to do to me."
It didn't physically hurt as much as it could have, simply for the fact
that I was as used to the loving version of this as I was, but inside I was
falling apart because it was happening for all the wrong reasons, because
of the sheer loathing in his voice as he kept hissing at me while he
repeatedly pushed in and pulled out, so hard and vigorously that I could
feel how the friction finally started to tear the skin of my insides apart
and finally the physical pain started up from that part of me as well, and
I welcomed it. It took my focus off the emotional pain.
I could feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks; the salty water stinging in
the cut on my cheek where the ring I'd given him had bitten into the flesh.
He made sure never to even get close to my spot and the contact that I
usually welcomed did nothing for me; merely made me feel dirty and
worthless, as, I'm sure, was his intention.
He kept going and going and I don't think he'd ever lasted that long
before, but then again he'd never been a beast before either.
His hands were on my hips and they had to be bruising the skin and his
nails were penetrating and drawing blood and I couldn't locate a part of me
that didn't hurt.
Finally he climaxed and I felt his release sting my internal wounds as he
collapsed on my back before rolling off, looking at me with disgust.
I was sobbing by then, not just silently crying and it took all of my
strength to roll onto my side to face him, shaking, crying and heaving for
breath as I stared into his hateful eyes.
The next words had to be the hardest ones I'd ever uttered, but I held his
gaze firmly, opening my mouth and willing my vocal cords to work. "I love
you."
It was hardly a whisper, hardly discernible, hardly fitting for the
situation, but while half of me still couldn't believe what had happened,
the other half wanted to make sure he knew exactly what he'd done.
"You're a bloody liar," he returned, his voice going weak as his own
strength seemed to be leaking out of him.
I shook my head lightly, another sob going through me. "Whatever happened,"
I choked out. "And whatever happens from here, you need to know that all
I've ever told Frederick has been to keep his hands to himself."
He looked confused for a moment, then his face hardened again.
And I understood.
It was easier to feel betrayed, to feel like I had deserved this than to
know that I'd never meant to hurt him. Or have other do it.
I tried to get up, tried to pull on the torn breeches, but I could barely
move a finger and I let out another whimper before closing my eyes. "I love
you," I whispered again. "I hate myself for ever making that deal. I swear
I've been doing everything to keep you out of it." I gasped in a breath,
feeling another round of tears escaping from under my closed lids. "I'd
have killed myself if it could've prevented you from being raped."
There was a long silence before he finally broke it, his hand touching my
cheek and making me open my eyes. "There's no such thing as a noble raping
a commoner, remember?" he asked, bitterness still in his voice although the
hate seemed to be melting away from his eyes.
"Those are the words of a witless man who didn't understand what he was
talking about," I croaked out, so, so sad that I'd ever said something like
that.
And then he was crying as well and he was reaching out for me but I
wouldn't have moved into his embrace even if I could. The minuscule touch
of his hand against my cheek was enough to make me flinch and I didn't know
if I'd ever be able to let him touch me again because while I still loved
him, he and his abilities also frightened my wit away. And he was too weak
himself to force me although I doubted he'd ever force me to do anything
again.
"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, hopefully knowing how inadequate his
words were. "I love you too."
I didn't answer, simply welcomed the dark void of unconsciousness that
presented itself to me the next moment.
******************************** Neither of us left my chambers for the
next week, my excuse being a sudden relapse into the mysterious illness I'd
suffered from.
Brendon did his best to nurse the both of us into a proper health, but I
must admit that I wasn't making it easy on him.
I barely let him touch me, barely spoke a word to him and he only managed
to make me eat three small meals over that period.
Nevertheless I was able to be up and about again a week after that dreadful
incident.
And despite the promise I'd made my sister, despite my lack of physical
shape, there was only one thing I left my bedchamber for.
I put proper clothes on that day, right down to gloves and a sword at my
side.
Then I found Frederick, slapped one of my gloves across his face and left
without another word.
Because no matter how bad things were at the moment, I still loved Brendon.
And Frederick was to blame.
I had to make him pay.
Even if I died doing so.
*****NOTE: In the middle ages, the way nobles challenged each other to
duels (duels to the death, that is) was by slapping each other with their
gloves. The person who got slapped is not allowed to back out, but gets to
choose weapons, time and place. Both people have a back-up with them, or
witness or whatever, to ensure that things happen the way they're supposed
to. These two are NOT allowed to interfere, though. It'll often be close
friends or immediate relatives. And it is to death. There's no way around
it without the both of them being labeled cowards for the rest of their
lives.